Soupmaker
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141: A Space Oddity by Trashole
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games), Stellaris (Video Game)
06 Feb 2026
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Summary
The 141 is a joint military and research vessel of the utmost caliber within the Union federation. What they had not expected was for them to stumble across an elusive lone human, nor the shenanigans that would follow.
CoD in space/CoD meets Stellaris and my brainrot. (No knowledge of Stellaris is necessary to understand or enjoy this fic)
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Why are the Demons Hot? by K_Hack
Fandoms: Furry (Fandom), Demons - Fandom, Original Work
15 Feb 2026
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Summary
Zachary Torres died as he lived... terminally horny for monster men.
When he wakes up in Hell, he's given a once-in-a-lifetime offer by a suspiciously handsome demonic President, instead of eternal torment, he can join a dysfunctional warband of Hell's most elite (and attractive) demons to take down the glittering bores of Heaven.
Zac figures this is a win-win. He's surrounded by a seven-foot wolf general with a beard, a pompous lion in a suit of armor, a grumpy wendigo who hates shirts, a sarcastic owl pirate, a bird-man who looks like a WWII pin-up, and a three-headed dragon butler. He is living the fantasy he literally died for.
The demons, however, quickly realize their new human asset is a walking HR disaster with zero survival instincts and a very specific... "condition" that is the source of all of his (self-identified) woes, and quickly becomes everyone else's as well.
A hellarious M/M thirst fest for the cultured Wolf/Dragon/Lion/Eagle/Owl/Caribou enjoyer.
New chapters will be out whenever I get around to writing them!
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The year is 3545 AD, and you are, unfortunately, marooned on the remains of an ancient civilization in hostile territory.
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Chitinous claws clash against metal, adding yet another minute scratch in the limbs of the Smoke War's corporal. The clanging never truly stops- the ringing of other verminous limbs crashing into metal ricocheted through the battlefield, a deafening cacophony of living weapons filling the ears of every soldier who walked on the scorched land beneath them.
As a final clank of claws against steel, and the soft impact of a hooked limb through the belly of another man- no, enemy, as he had been corrected upon numerous times before- a bright star burned into the back of his retinas.
He lost everything, any resemblance of freedom or yearning was gone, only the ache for an end had remained. And as that star burned, the corporal hardly reacted, though it glimmered a strange promise. A temporary reprieve from war, though not a release from violence.
If he were to follow that star, he would simply fight other battles, though for a manager instead of the filthy rich.
Can't be that bad, can it? Besides, nothing ever changes.
And as such, the star burned brighter, and Gregor Sasma, the corporal of G-Corp, had been displaced.
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Ghost had been sure, many times in his life, that he had the worst luck in the world. Now, he could make that the worst luck in the fucking universe. Getting captured by aliens wasn't his idea of a nice Sunday, yet here he was.
The 141 knows very little about humans. They're fearsome, dangerous creatures from an even worse planet. The few expeditions foolish enough to get close disappeared entirely. The one report salvaged from a lucky ship, a long time ago, isn't really helping.
They have to figure out what to do with the one in front of them.Or, humans are space orcs but make it COD.